


What Remains

by sassings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Laura Hale is alive, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassings/pseuds/sassings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek awakes from a coma and realizes he's not a werewolf, his sisters are alive, and he might have a boyfriend named Stiles Stilinski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Remains

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something and saw a prompt on tumblr so I decided to try my hand at fanfic. It's my first fanfiction ever so sorry if it is horrible. Also sorry for any grammatical errors I may have missed.

            The images come to him in flashes, just a random mix of faces and colors.  He remembers a fight, or at least he thinks it was a fight.  There’s yelling and claws and the smell of blood hangs heavy in the air.  Scott was yelling something and there was somebody crying.  The Alpha twins were there and so was Isaac and the Argents and they were staring at something behind him, wearing horrified faces.  Cora stood next to him and her mouth formed the word ‘sorry’ just before he fell.

            When his eyes open again, he’s in a hospital room.  He hears a multitude of beeps and the sound of somebody breathing beside him.  There are bodies in this room, men and women all sleeping in hospital beds and various nurses and doctors hovering around them.

            “Derek Hale?  Can you hear me?” A blonde nurse is next to him.  _Erica._

            He tries to say her name, to ask what happened, but the only thing he can manage is a quiet moan.

            “It’s okay, it’s fine.  Don’t try to speak yet.  You’re going to be okay.”

            He’s too out of it to try and listen to her heartbeat to tell if she’s lying.

 

            He’s not healing.  Or he is, but it’s slow and painful.  There’s a wound in his chest that feels like its ten miles across and various scrapes and bruises are covering the parts of him that aren’t bandaged.  Staring at the same ceiling got boring pretty quickly so he doesn’t bother opening his eyes when he awakes the second time.  There’s a pressure on his arm, like somebody was leaning on him and the same steady breathing he heard before.  He focuses on that and eventually gets lulled back to sleep.

 

            He has trouble waking up after that.  He feels like he’s swimming and consciousness is just above the surface, but he can’t reach it.  Stiles’ voice is up there, coaxing him out.  When his voice gets foggy and distant, Derek tries moving, trying to reach it again.  He gets close, but he can only hear snippets of what Stiles is trying to tell him.

            “Derek, you made it out of surgery and the doctors say…everyone is so worried about you…if you don’t wake up, I swear to God…Derek, please just…”

            And on and on.  Most of the time, he’s calm and his voice soothing and therapeutic.  It helps Derek sleep, even though all he wants to do is wake up.  Other times Stiles sounds almost pissed off.  The worst is when he sounds broken, when Derek can hear the cracks in his voice.

            Stiles’ voice is sometimes replaced with other voices.  He hears Erica every once in a while, as well as Isaac and a lots of doctors and nurses.  Nobody knows what’s wrong with him, he can tell that much.

            “Just be patient.” Erica says now and he hears Stiles sigh.

            “I really hate hospitals.  When you wake up, you are going to pay for this.”

            Derek tries to smile, but he can’t find his lips.

 

            It feels like decades have passed when he finally opens his eyes again.  The room is different than the one before.  Most of the beeping is gone and his bed is the only one in this small room.  Stiles sits in a chair next to it and is flipping through a magazine lazily.

            “Stiles.” Derek says, but it sounds more like a sigh.  He clears his throat.

            “Derek.” Stiles sits up, his eyes wide.  He moves closer to Derek and grabs his hand, the movement throwing the magazine to the floor.  “God, Derek, I was thinking you were never going to come out of it.”

            “Stiles.”

            “Yeah, I’m here.  God, don’t you ever do anything like that again.”

            “Where’s Scott?  And the Alphas?  Where are they?”

            “What?” Stiles leans closer to him.

            “The Alphas.  And Scott.  What happened to him?”

            “Alphas.” Stiles sits back in his chair, his eyebrows pushing together in confusion. “Is that what you’re saying?  I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            “The twins.  And Cora.  Where’s Cora?”

            “Cora’s in New York, Derek, with Laura.  I mean, they came to see you after it happened, but they eventually had to return home.  Want me to call them?”

            Derek can barely hear what he said after Laura.  Laura’s not in New York, not with Cora.  Laura’s dead.

            “Laura’s—” Derek has apparently used up his words because his throat is tight and constricting.

            “Yeah, I’ll call them, okay?  I’ll call them.”  The machines start beeping faster, “Derek, are you okay?”

            “Laura is—”

            “Give me a second.” Stiles walks away and Derek can hear him calling for a nurse.  He tries to hold on to consciousness, but already the water is pulling him under again.

            _Laura is dead._

 

            It’s a lot less disorienting when he opens his eyes again.  He feels like no time has passed, but Stiles is wearing different clothes this time.  Wearing a uniform, a deputy’s uniform.  Derek almost laughs at the sight of him in the tan button down, a shiny badge on one side of his chest, a nametag on the other.  Derek reads the name on it.  Stiles Stilinski.  _What the hell._

            “Hey!” He sounds way too cheery and he’s holding Derek’s hand again, “I called your sisters and they’re coming.  They’re so relieved.”

            “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

            Stiles laughs and leans more heavily on him, “Yeah, well that’s what happened.”

            “What?”

            “Do you remember?  It was a car accident, pretty awful too.  I didn’t even know it was you when I heard about it on the radio, but when I showed up…” He trails off and squeezes Derek’s hand, “It doesn’t matter.  You’re okay.”

            “Car accident?” He tries remember being in an accident, but all he can recall is the fight.  Some screaming and some blood.

            “Yeah, that’s how you ended up here.”

            “I wasn’t in a car accident, Stiles.  I was in a fight.”

            Stiles’ smiles slips away, “Um, no.  Is that what you think happened?”

            “A fight with someone.  The Alphas were there and so were Scott and Cora.  I think I fell.  Did I fall?”

            “Derek, what are you talking about?”

            “The twins.  The Alpha pack.”

            Stiles has let go of him and is inching towards the door, “I’m going to go find a doctor, okay?  Just hold on.”

 

            Memory loss.  Or something of that nature.  Apparently, he was in a car accident and hit his head pretty hard, along with various other injuries.  There is no Alpha pack and he is not an alpha.  He’s not even a werewolf and Stiles pretty much had a heart attack when he mentioned he was.  He reluctantly agreed to keep that to himself so the doctors wouldn’t think Derek was completely insane.  He checked it out for himself, though.  No claws, no glowing eyes.  He’s a human and he feels it whenever he tries to get out of his bed and his chest feels like it’s coming apart.

            Stiles sticks around day and night and helps him in and out of bed, much to Derek’s embarrassment.  Not that he can complain since he obviously needs the help. 

            The real life Stiles and the Stiles he remembers are alike in the sense that they never shut up.  Although, this time around, Derek is grateful for it.  He asks him about himself and about the people he knew.  Derek owns a restaurant in town.  The only Scott that Stiles thinks Derek knows is a vet tech student who works at the animal clinic where Derek took his dog a few times.  Lydia and Jackson are two of his friends from high school.  They’re married and live in San Francisco, but they haven’t seen or talked to Derek in years.  Stiles assures Derek that no family named Argent lives in Beacon Hills.

            Both of his sisters finally show up after seemingly endless layovers.  Laura looks good.  Happy and, most of all, alive.  Derek tries not to cry when he first sees her, but a few tears escaped anyway.  She and Cora tell them about his family—that most of them were killed in an accidental fire when he was ten.  He, Cora, and Laura were at school at the time.  Beside them, his only living relative is his uncle Peter, who is mostly comatose and is being taken care of at Beacon Hills Rehabilitation Center.

            Then there’s Stiles.  Stiles is a deputy at the police department and Derek and him are best friends.  Maybe even more than that, but Stiles hasn’t held his hand since that day Derek was babbling about Alpha packs.

            One day, as Stiles was getting ready the room for something, he leaned close to Derek as if to kiss his cheek.  A few inches away, he jerked back.  His cheeks were flushed.

            “Sorry, Der.” He said and then left.

 

            They keep him in the hospital for a while after that.  It only takes a few days, though, for most of the nurses to hate him.  He refuses most of the medication, especially the one to help him sleep, and walks around more than he should.  Stiles doesn’t interfere, just helps him limp around and stifles his laughter when one of the nurses sees Derek up and they get into a screaming match.  The only nurse Derek likes is Erica (who actually isn’t one of the dead betas in his pack, just a nurse, and promises they’ve never met before).  She gives him the mandatory lecture about how he should take his pain medication, but rolls her eyes through most of it and doesn’t push when he says no.

            He goes to rehab twice a week, but practices the exercises they teach him every day.  After a while, he can get up and down and walk around the room without Stiles’ help.  Derek uses that fact to convince Stiles to go back to work.

            “Derek, it’s not like I’m going to get fired.  Everybody understands.”

            “Stiles, go to work.  I don’t need you hovering over me all the time.”  Stiles almost looks hurt and Derek ignores the guilt that plants itself in his stomach.  It’s not that he wants Stiles to leave.  It’s just that it’s hard for Derek, to be around someone who seems so familiar with him and always seems to know how he’s thinking and feeling, and how frustrating it is for Derek to not know who the hell he really is.  Instead of explaining that, though, Derek just glares a lot.

            Stiles rolls his eyes, but turns and leaves immediately.  Derek spends most of the day worrying that he might be mad at him, but Stiles is back later that night with dinner for both of them and talks nonstop about lacrosse while they eat. 

            It becomes a lazy routine.  Stiles stops by in the mornings for an hour, goes to work, and comes back afterwards with real food.  The breathing room is nice, but Derek is grateful for Stiles being there to explain his memory lapses to all his visitors.  He knows and remembers all of them, which is comforting.  Until he realizes that he remembers a warped version of who they really are.

            Isaac stops by once.  Isaac is one of the employees at his restaurant.  With most of the people who visit him, Derek tries to ask lots of questions and not to assume anything.  But, still Derek slips, mentioning something about Isaac’s father being dead.  Isaac’s eyes bugged out of his head and Stiles immediately whisked him outside of the room to explain things.

            “For the record, both of Isaac’s parents are alive.” Stiles says when he returns minutes later. “And Isaac thinks you’re completely insane.  Don’t be surprised if he quits.”

 

            “Good news!” Stiles says one day, practically skipping into the room, “We can leave.”

            Derek looks up at him in disbelief.  He’s been in the hospital close to three months now and has been close to being discharged for over two weeks.  The doctors have said twice in the past week that he could go home ‘soon’, but they haven’t been really specific on how soon.

            “For real this time.  I signed the discharge papers and everything.  Let’s go home.”

            Derek wishes he was well enough to sprint out of the damn hospital, but he settles for the fast walk that he can manage with Stiles’ help.  Stiles doesn’t supply any of the conversation as they walk out of the hospital so they walk away in silence.  When they get to the parking garage, Derek doesn’t even make a comment about the blue jeep.

            Derek fidgets the whole drive.  Stiles shoots him glances every once and while, but doesn’t ask what’s wrong.  The route feels familiar and so is the building that Stiles parks at.  Derek tries not to get his hopes up as they walk through the lobby and onto the elevator.  Stiles’ pushes the familiar the floor number and Derek holds his breath.  It isn’t until Stiles unlocks the door to their apartment and Derek steps inside that he breaths out in relief.

            It’s the same loft he remembers.  There’s a few pieces of furniture that are unfamiliar and the desk is piled with dvds rather than books about supernatural lore, but it’s the same.

            “Oh, sorry.  I haven’t really cleaned up in a while.” Stiles says and gets to work picking up various pieces of clothes that are strewn along the furniture.

            “No, it’s okay.  I remember this.  I was afraid I wouldn’t.”

            “Yeah, well remembering isn’t really your issue.  It’s more the things you remember.”

            Derek glares at him, but Stiles is cleaning and doesn’t see it, “You’re right.  Boyd died right where you’re standing.”

            That makes Stiles stop and he turns to frown at Derek, “Boyd?  The kid who works in your restaurant?”

            Derek starts walking in the general direction of the bathroom, taking off clothes as he goes, “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

            He strips off the rest of his clothes in the bathroom and reaches behind him to turn the water on.  As it heats up, he examines himself in the mirror behind the door.  Ignoring the huge gash on his stomach, he angles himself so he can see his back.  His upper back is clean, smooth skin, bare of a triskele tattoo.  He curses and jumps into the shower.  The water is scalding, but he doesn’t turn it down.  He stands under the spray as if he could burn all the wrong memories out of his head. 

            When he finally steps out, his skin is red and raw, but he at least feels clean.  As he dries off, he notices a shirt hanging on the doorknob that could not possibly fit him.  There’s also an extra toothbrush on the vanity and a cologne that’s a bit too strong for his taste.  He swears again and attaches a towel around his waist.  He stomps his way into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.  Stiles doesn’t even flinch.

            “Everything okay?”  He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, a book opened in his lap.

            “Great.” Derek practically growls and starts opening drawers.  He searches for something to wear, but all the things he pulls out are too small for him.

            “Your clothes are on the left hand side.” Stiles says helpfully.

            Most of his anger was gone by then, replaced by exhaustion.  He grabs the first shirt his hands touch and yanks it on.  He also grabs a pair of underwear and pants and stumbles backwards to sink heavily on the end of the bed.  Stiles tosses the book aside and sits down next to him, “You okay?”

            “How long?”

            “How long what?”

            “How long have we been together?”

            Stiles smiles sadly and bites his lip, “A while.  I mean, we were pretty on and off through high school, but we’ve been steady ever since.”

            “I’m sorry.  I wish I remembered.”

            Stiles shrugged, “It’s not like it’s your fault.”

            “It just was so vivid.  It felt real.”

            They’re silent for a few moments as Derek finishes getting dressed.  Stiles politely looks away when he slides on his boxers and a pair of sweatpants.

            “Derek, were we friends in your, um, dream?”

            He laughs, “No, not really.”

            “So what was I like?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Come on.” Stiles playfully smacks his shoulder.

            “You were much like you are now.”

            “Really?  So I was brilliant?  Heroic?  Devastatingly sexy?

            Derek rolls his eyes, “And very modest.”

            Derek turns to look at him and studies his face.  There’s something familiar about him, but that’s not surprising.  This is Stiles.  He’s Scott’s best friend and one of the most infuriating humans he’s ever met.  There’s something more, though, and he can’t get a grip on what it is.

            Stiles rolls his eyes, “Quit staring at me.”

            “Okay.”  Derek leans forward and captures his mouth in a kiss.  Stiles freezes for a moment, but quickly recovers, kissing Derek back tentatively.  The kiss is gentle and soft, but quickly becomes something more.  Derek twines his arms around Stiles’ neck, twisting his fingers in his hair.  Their mouths open and Stiles tastes like coffee and candy and home.

            An image burns into Derek’s mind.  The first time he saw Stiles wasn’t in the woods, watching while he and Scott searched for an inhaler. It was outside the principal’s on the first day of school.  Derek was new to Beacon Hills Elementary and was terrified.  While his mom talked to the principal, Derek took a seat next to Stiles outside his office.  Stiles had his arms crossed over his chest and was pouting.  He perked up when Derek sat down and started talking to him like they were already best friends.  Derek remembers looking at him and being oddly fascinated by this boy.  This boy who rambled senselessly about the injustice of being sent to the office on the first day before he even asked his name.

            Now, Derek sighs and leans into Stiles until he’s lying on his back.  Derek hovers over him and continues kissing him, letting his hands wander down under Stiles’ shirt and up over his stomach.  Stiles makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but doesn’t protest.

            More images fly into Derek’s head.  He and Stiles kissing outside of the movie theater for the first time in seventh grade.  Stiles asking him out in ninth grade.  Stiles sitting next to him on the couch, holding his hand while he came out to his sisters.

            He remembers having sleepovers at each others’ apartments after high school.  It took only three months until they both realized it was ridiculous and moved in together. He remembers how Stiles just leaves his clothes whenever his takes them off, leaving piles all over the place.  How he sings in the shower and wears just a bit too much cologne.  How Stiles always forces him to watch Star Wars at least once a month, but they usually just end up making out for half of it.

            Stiles slides his hands under Derek’s shirt, digging his nails into his back, dragging Derek back to the present.  Derek groans and moves his mouth to Stiles’ jaw.

            “God, I’ve missed you.”

            Stiles gasps and Derek immediately pulls back to looks at him.  Stiles’ eyes are wide, almost frantic, but full of something that looks like hope. “Wait, you remember?”

            Derek nods slowly and goes back to kissing along his jaw line, “I love you, Stiles Stilinski.  I’m sorry that I forgot how much.”

            Their lips meet again and Derek can feel Stiles smile, “I love you, too, my big bad wolf.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can check me out on [tumblr](http://www.lliamdunbar.tumblr.com) if you want. :*


End file.
